


A Stolen Hour

by ClementineStarling



Category: RocknRolla (2008)
Genre: Comment Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 22:23:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5683030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClementineStarling/pseuds/ClementineStarling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Archy is lost in the comfort of Bob's back against his chest, smooth and warm, their limbs a drowsy tangle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Stolen Hour

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for a prompt by [unsettled](http://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled) at the [3rd commentficwar at her Livejournal](http://unsettledink.livejournal.com/112061.html?thread=1018301#t1018301):  
> "RnR - Archy/Handsome Bob, something about them having had sex at least a couple times, if it's porn or if it's exploration of relationship. Because they seemed way more familiar with each other than anyone else was with Archy."

The light is soft in the room, warm shades of cotton. Everything is mellow, serene. No tension, no job, no phone. A stolen hour. Archy is lost in the comfort of Bob's back against his chest, smooth and warm, their limbs a drowsy tangle. And even though he craves a cigarette, he is reluctant to let go, unwilling to leave this state between dreaming and waking just now. Sometimes he thinks, he enjoys these moments every bit as much as the sex that precedes them. It's how he recharges his batteries. Just lying there, listening to Bob breathing.

Today something is off though, something weird in the way Bob's ribcage trembles, how he draws air, raw, laboured. “What's wrong?” he whispers, a low drone against Bob's shoulder, lips brushing gently over skin. Almost a kiss.

Bob's voice sounds choked, when he answers: “A fucking five stretch, Arch, I can't think about anything else...”

Of course that's what's bothering him, Archy could slap himself for not realising. It's not that he hasn't been there himself. “I know,” he says, pressing his lips to that same spot again, soothing. He hates to feel so fucking useless, “I'll see what Lenny can do about it. Promise.”

He wraps his arms tighter around Bob, as if he could save him this way, by holding him close, not letting go. He is sure, Bob is crying now, silently, shaking slightly in his embrace, but that's okay. They have this strange pact to shed their armour with their clothes when they get into bed. Which is something that, perhaps, Archy needs more than Bob, because Bob is hardly ever anything else but his sweet, mild-mannered self, while Archy is supposed to be a rock, solid, impassive, unyielding. Cold. But Archy isn't cold, however good he's at his act, and just now he feels like his heart is breaking.


End file.
